Watermelon
by sillym3
Summary: The fruit of love. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER :** No copyright infringement intended. CSI and the characters within this fic belong to CBS and other entities. I made no profit but the fun of writing.

**A/N :** As classic as the subject of this fic could be, I hope you can still find something new in this fruit of my labor. This fruit that would have tasted sour if wasn't for Sylvie great and much help.

Enjoy:)

**WATERMELON**

**-Part 1-**

_Sara was in a garden of flowers__,__soft __hues of violet__s__, red__s__, white__s__, and yellow__s__spread__all a__round as far as her eyes could see._

_A fountain__, just at arm's length__, was spilling water from its granite bowl to the small pond bellow. She touched the falling water with her fingertips, smiling, mesmeriz__ed__ at the freshness it brought to her skin._

_She could feel her own smile getting wider when she spotted him. There, walking down the path of lush green grass was her man. Her li__f__e __and__ soul, the reason of her existence, all in one vivid picture of a man. _

_Gilbert Grissom with __his charming smile__, dressed all in white, his __shirt looking__ so crisp under the sun, the forever sweet smell of his skin __carried __by the wind. He opened his arms wide and in a second she was there in his embrace, __home__._

_He kissed her, and as always, she kissed him back. Long, and sweet, __and lovely, as__ if their lips were of melted honey._

"_Sara…." He kept her at arm__'s__ length__;__ his eyes smiled to hers. "Look."_

_At first, she __didn't understand.__ But when, still smiling, she looked down to her arms, she did too._

_There, as if magically materialized, was a __bundle in a soft__ blue blanket, sat in her arms like it belonged there._

_She looked up questioningly to Grissom whose __smile seemed__ ethereal under the glowing sun, and then she looked down at the bundle again. As if trying to answer her unspoken query the bundle moved against her chest._

"_Look." Grissom spoke softly, his hand moved to cradle the bundle with hers._

_As if in daze, Sara's trembling fingers opened the blanket, revealing what was in it to her curious eyes._

X-.-/-/-.-X

_Ra Ra-ah-ah-ah_

_Roma Roma-ma_

_GaGa_

_Oh la-la_

_Want your bad romance._

"Damn it!" Sara sat up bolt upright, glaring at her cellphone that was ringing and vibrating like crazy atop the nightstand.

She rubbed her bleary eyes; regretfully remembering that she had allowed Greg to re-set the alarm feature on her phone. Lady Gaga could only sing the next three words of the lyric before Sara mercilessly hit the stop button, shutting the alarm for good.

She swung her legs off the bed, ready to start her pre-shift routine, when it hit her.

A foggy image of Grissom in a white dress shirt and a blue bundle came first. Then the whole scenario of her dream played out in front of her very eyes like an old movie.

A bad old movie.

Sara gasped, then gasped again. _Did I really dream that?_

She shook her head, standing and stretching, when it hit her again, ten times harder this time.

"Oh God, No!" She fumbled for her discarded phone, scrolled to the calendar feature. Then as if it wasn't enough, she rounded the bed for the other nightstand, grabbing the calendar on it and gawking at rows of printed date.

"No. No. No." The words came out like a mantra as she sat dejectedly on the bed, holding the calendar and the phone in tight grips.

_Today is the eighteenth. My __last period__ was when? Last month? _

_Wait? I was having one before that trick roll at __the__ Lucky Dragon. That was two months ago right?  
_

She checked the calendar one more time, confirming her suspicion.

_God. _

The bed bounced slightly as Sara threw herself on it, calculating, contemplating, and cursing herself every now and then. She only stopped when her phone rang again, a different Lady Gaga's song this time with a lyric Sara couldn't quite fathom

"Hello."

"So, I take it that the alarm works?" The far-too-eager sound at the other end somehow sunk her already ruined mood.

"I don't remember allowing you to change my ringtone." She sat up and walked to the bathroom. _Nothing is certain yet. I need to run a test, or get checked out. _

"It's a bonus." Greg chirped happily. "Buy one get two."

"Lady Gaga? Where has your rock soul gone?" She checked her image in the mirror. She had lost her appetite for no reason lately and had a problem waking up on time.

_Are those the signs? But I haven't vomited in years and have no problem around coffee. Didn't Catherine say that she __couldn't stand coffee or keep any food__ down when she was __expecting__ Lindsey?_

"I'm still a rocker inside Sara, I just have a little diversion to expand my musical horizon."

Expand. The word triggered something in Sara's mind. She hurriedly peeled off her tank-top and cautiously brought her hand down to her stomach, checking her reflection. She turned so she could look at her profile. It didn't look like she had expanded, yet; her belly was still the same as it was before. She blew out a relieved breath.

_Nicely rounded_. She recalled Grissom's comment a while back with a wistful smile. Amidst their lovemaking she had self-consciously asked if it bothered him that she wasn't as thin as Catherine or as sexy as their French neighbor. He had chuckled and picked his favorite part on her body, her stomach and fingers, and had peppered them with lovely kisses as solid proof of his confession.

_Grissom._ _What would he say when __– if – __her stomach g__o__t rotund? W__ould__ he still love that part of her body?_

No. She couldn't even begin to imagine his reaction to the news.

"Sara! Are you still there?" Greg's voice penetrated into her consciousness.

"Yeah. You were saying?" Sara pressed the phone to her ear, trying to concentrate on Greg's words.

"We are expected at the Palermo, a double."

"This early?" She checked her reflection again, pressing her hand slightly against her stomach. Her gaze moved up to her breasts for signs of _expansion_ and she shook her head briskly.

"Swing's tapped out on the arson case. Haven't you seen the news? It's everywhere."

_News. How __would__ she deliver the news to Grissom? __On the__ phone? E-mail? A surprise intercontinental flight to Paris?_

"No Greg. I haven't watched TV in days." She sighed, glancing at the pile of soiled clothes from the previous shifts that she hadn't got the chance to laundry. Nowadays, she just crash into the townhouse and fall asleep."I'll be at the scene in thirty."

"Make that twenty. It's a high-profile one. I'm picking you up."

Another sigh escaped Sara's lips as she said yes to Greg, shutting the phone. As she stepped into the shower she gave a final glance at her reflection, deciding that there was no point counting chickens before the eggs had hatched.

_Eggs, embryos, fetuses, what difference does it make? _she mumbled to herself distractedly. _I'm still going to have to wait until __the end of the shift to see if the eggs will indeed hatch._

X-.-/-/-.-X

Apparently the definition of end of shift was still as undefined as it was back when Sara left the lab two year ago. It was only after pulling a double and a half that she and Greg could leave the lab, pleased that they had nailed the suspect. They were both tired beyond belief.

Greg was cracking jokes as he drove; even tried a dirty one about Doc Robbins and the naked bodies they'd found at the Palermo.

Sara, more for her sanity, gave grave smiles or obligatory nods. Her hand was in her jacket pocket, clutching two slim pregnancy tests still in their protective boxes she had successfully bought behind Greg's back under the pretense of buying Tylenol.

"Here you go Princess, Grissom's manor." Greg stopped in front of the townhouse, rounded the car quickly to open the passenger door for Sara, bowing as he did so.

His sweet gesture was inevitably rewarded with a smile. Sara stepped out, holding Greg's proffered hand. "What's with this fourteenth century style, Sir Greggo?"

"Nothing," Greg continued holding her hand, gallantly leading her to the door. "Just thought I could entertain my distracted Lady." He winked at her, casually leaning against the door. "That, and I really need to go to the john."

Sara laughed, pulling out keys from her sling purse and feigning confusion on which key to use to open the door.

"Oh come on." Greg tapped his foot on the concrete floor, scrunching his eyes. "You don't want to see me wet my pants."

"No." Sara chuckled, pushing the door open with her knee. "But I would like to see you clean the mess afterwards though."

Be fore she could finish her sentence Greg had elbowed her out of the way and was running at full pelt down the stairs. Sara sighed, too preoccupied to even enjoy Greg's antics. Her mind was racing ten miles a minute, toward an obvious possibility in front of her.

_What if I'm really pregnant?_

"Sara," Greg's voice rang out from downstairs. "Which door is it?"

_Her __husband lived so far__. She was at the age where the chances of a healthy pregnancy were narrowed down significantly. _

"The one to the right Greg. Near the kitchen," she shouted back while toeing her shoes off. The test-pack was held firmly in her hand, hidden inside the pocket of her jacket.

A picture of her, with Grissom and Hank, in front of Eiffel tower was on the refrigerator door. She stopped and stared at it blankly, wondering if a new addition to the family would really be needed in their already complete life.

"Phew, that was close." As if by magic Greg popped up in front of her. The happy grin still adorned his face and his eyes reflected the boyish shine that didn't help Sara's situation at all.

His trained eyes followed Sara's gaze and when they found the photograph on the door, his grin morphed into a genuine smile. "Missing them?"

"Huh?"

"Come on. You've been in your little bubble all day. If it wasn't for my super CSI skills, we wouldn't have solved the case," he teased. Wrapping an arm around Sara's shoulder he led her to sit at the kitchen counter.

As if in his own apartment, Greg opened kitchen cabinets with ease, finding one that hid glasses behind its doors. He then took a carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured the content into one tall glass. "Here, drink and tell…." He sat at the opposite side of the counter, pushing the glass toward Sara.

A full minute passed without a word from Sara and he sighed, his expression clouding with worry. "Or… you could also drink and rest… your choice."

"No… I'm sorry… I'm just…" Sara considered the person in front of her. Greg was a good friend, the best-est if she could say so. She could always rely on him for an honest, if not entertaining, opinion.

Catherine, maybe she was the perfect person to share this possibility of a life altering event with. Both Nick and Brass were good for brotherly, sometimes fatherly, advice. And you couldn't get enough of surprise when Ray started to talk. But Greg, with his hesitant yet caring eyes, gently staring at her from where he was sitting, was as clueless as her in this department.

This time, she needed cluelessness.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk now," Greg said, "Just get some rest and try not to think about it too much." He rose up to his feet, ready to go.

Sara cleared her throat. "Do you think I'm looking bigger?"

Greg's eyebrow shot half-way up his forehead. "What?"

Sara shrugged, her lips pursing in a smile of embarrassment. "Do you think I'm…" she touched her stomach, "…expanding?"

Greg stared at her with complete bafflement. He opened his mouth with a ready retort and then thinking better of it chanced a quick look to the rest of her body. He shrugged helplessly, his face screwing in uncertainty, "No?"

Sighing, Sara pulled her hand out of her pocket, the test-pack gripped tightly in her closed palm. She took a breath, a deep one, before opening her fingers. "Look." Her voice wavered.

"Is that? Whoa!" Greg's head bent down to see only to shoot up straight again. "Really?"

Sara closed her eyes and shook her head, ready to explain.

"Man, Grissom's scored before me." Greg was already in a trance, shaking his head in amazement.

"Greg. I haven't used it." Sara tapped the test against the counter. The square pink package hadn't even been opened yet.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry." Greg slumped back down on the breakfast stool, leaning closer. "So….,"

"So…," Sara parroted. Her word hung in the air as a big question more for herself than for Greg.

"To be honest, I saw the signs…. You had this weird sudden craving for peanut butter. Remember when you snatched my sandwich at Frank's? And the way you got instantly pale at our scene today… I positively think the result will be positive." With a beaming smile, Greg ended his sentence.

"What if I don't want it to be positive?" Sara averted her gaze from the pink box on the counter to the picture on the refrigerator.

"You don't?" Shock was written all over Greg's face.

"I don't know Greg." Sara leaned back on her chair, crossing both hands on her chest. "Do you ever picture me as a mother?"

"Well, not particularly. But… You are a good person Sara… someone with a good heart and good intentions. You might not be the best at everything but I bet my CD collection you'll not fail as a mother."

"I don't know Greg. I really don't know. We, Grissom and I, never really talk about this."

"Did he ever say that he was against the idea of being a father?"

"Not deliberately." Never in her mind had Sara ever thought of sharing this side of their conversations with anyone, let alone Greg. "But Grissom…" She exhaled. "Sometimes when he's in a foul mood, he brings up the age difference between us."

"It's no big deal, you know. Him, being…," Greg paused, "a little older."

"For me, it's not. For him, it is."

"Oh."

Sara grimaced at Greg's inability to compose a better reaction. "He loves me. Of that I'm sure. But sometimes he thinks he doesn't deserve me. And it annoys me that he thinks that way."

"I don't know about that. I know no one else who deserves each other like you two do." Greg smiled. "What about the talks about bugs and dead bodies only the two of you can understand?"

"And no one else can creepily finish Grissom's sentences like you do." He added enthusiastically.

"You are made for each other. It's as simple as that."

She let her eyes connect with Greg's, letting her doubts pour out until her heart felt a little more at ease. "It may not be positive at all."

"Let's find out then!" Greg exclaimed, almost standing up from his chair. "Or… come to think about it. I'll let you find out. I mean, we don't want us both in the bathroom right?"

"Nah, one shower experience with you is enough." Sara finally could smile. She snatched the box of pregnancy test from the counter and weighed it in her hand.

"You know. I can leave if you want me to. It's a private moment, for you, and for Grissom too."

After a moment of contemplation, Sara looked up to her best friend. "No. If you don't mind, I'd like to have some company. In case I lose my nerve."

"You sure?"

Sara gave a weak but confident nod.

"Sure your hubby won't kill me for knowing the results first?"

The genuine look of fear in Greg's eyes made Sara laugh. She shook her head no before turning around, headed to the bathroom. "Just don't mess with my ringtone again and I'll make sure Grissom knows nothing about you being here while I'm peeing on a stick."

**To Be Continued….**

So, kind and sweet readers, what do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER :** No copyright infringement intended. CSI and the characters within this fic belong to CBS and other entities. I made no profit but the fun of writing.

**A/N : **Thank you for your kind reviews for the previous chapter. I'm all open for critics and suggestion. And I'm also all grateful for Sylvie's help on tuning up this chapter.

**WATERMELON**

**-Part 2-**

"Is it time yet?"

"No, Greg." Sara was sitting on the floor against the bathroom door, watching her friend restlessly pacing up and down near the kitchen counter.

"Are you sure?"

"Greg, we've used the test so many times in the lab, it takes three minutes." Sara almost laughed at Greg's giddiness. She couldn't help wondering what Grissom would be like if it was him waiting instead of Greg. Would he be giddy with excitement too?

Sara sighed, and looked down at the floor wishing above everything else that Grissom was here, now, and doing this with her rather than Greg.

"You know," Greg came and sat down beside her. "I never really wait for three minutes."

"That's against lab procedure."

"Yeah, but when it's positive, it's positive, and vice versa. Waiting only slows down our work." Greg stared at Sara solemnly, his eyes pleading with her. "Can we look at the test now? Please?"

"Greg! You are _so_ worse than me." She smacked him on the back, glancing at the clock. "I think it's time anyway."

Together they rose up. Sara's hand was pushing down on the door handle, when she suddenly turned toward her friend. "I'm so nervous."

"Sara, it's going to be fine."

She opened the door and peeked inside. The test was laid on top of the sink. The pink stick was clearly visible from the door. "I can't. I just can't." She closed the door and sighed. "What if it's positive?"

"What if it's not?" Greg smiled and reached for Sara's hand and squeezed it encouragingly. "Do you want me to look at it first?"

"Would you?"

"What harm can it do?" Greg covered Sara's hand on the door handle and began to lower it. Together they opened the door. Greg was halfway through the door when Sara stopped him.

"Wait," she said, and took a deep breath. "I want to look at it myself."

"That's my girl." Greg smiled, and gently pushed Sara forward. "I'll be waiting for you right here."

X-.-/-/-.-X

The full minute it took Sara to make herself walk to the sink and look at the test felt like a year. Her heart thumped and it felt like she was sweating bullets.

After a long deep breath, a shaky hand picked up the test.

"This is it," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. "My whole world can change with this. Here. Now." She stroked her hand over her flat stomach and blew out a breath. "Come on, Sidle. Chin up. What's the worst that can happen, huh?"

She raised her hand in front of her, palm up, and opened it, her eyes snapping open at the same time. There was no mistaking the positive sign on the digital display.

She sunk down to the floor with the test in her tight grip. It wasn't the impending arrival that she was afraid of. It was herself and her belief that motherhood wasn't one of many things Sara Sidle could master.

A series of images began to flash in front of her closed eyes. The first ones were of her own childhood, far from being loved and nurtured. Then of her many foster mothers in the many foster homes that she could never bring herself to call home.

Then came the reflection of herself, an older yet emptier version of Sara Sidle in one woman that was her mother. Laura Sidle, her face black and blue, her hand gripping a bloodied knife like a lifeline.

Her father lay like a rag doll on the floor, sucking his last breath while a river of blood seeped out from the wound on his chest and flowed to the linoleum floor. His eyes on hers, the last words he told her were… _don't be your fucking mother._

She was her father's daughter. Who could guarantee that when she got very angry she wouldn't end up beating up her own child?

She was her mother's daughter too. What if she ended up in an asylum like her?

Was there such a thing as a murder gene?

The question made her think of Grissom. They were comfortable with their life now. After much struggling in the past they were finally at the same page. She was at ease with her independence and he was content with his ever changing schedule.

How would a baby fit into their long distance marriage?

Would Grissom give up his treasured teaching position and come back to Vegas for her, for their child?

Did she really want to experience the feeling of pointlessness again, being a complete stranger in Paris plus being a mother who stays at home all day long?

She felt so selfish, so confused, and so afraid of what was to come that a single teardrop inescapably fell down her cheek.

"Sara…," Greg's voice came through the open door. "You okay in there?"

She didn't answer him; she could not, not now that more tears had come and were silently streaming down her cheeks.

Greg's voice was soft and coaxing. "Can I come in?"

She still could not answer him.

After a moment she heard the door open and Greg was by her side. He crouched down and wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into him, her tears coming faster, relentless.

"Hey now, ssshhh," Greg whispered soothingly, "It's gonna be okay. It's gonna be okay."

"You don't understand, Greg," Sara sobbed, pulling away from him. She opened out the hand clutching the test, "I'm pregnant."

Greg went speechless for a moment before gathering her in his arms again, whispering. "It's still gonna be okay. Trust me."

X-.-/-/-.-X

They stayed in the bathroom for a long time before Greg could convince Sara to get up off the floor and back to the kitchen.

Greg's giddiness had long gone and he knew Sara well enough to know that now wasn't the time to ask questions. He made her a cup of hot tea and suggested that she rest.

She shook her head no, completely sure that sleep wouldn't come with her current mental condition.

"Come on now." Greg handed her the steaming mug. "Sleep and you'll feel better when you wake up. If you want to, we can talk about this later."

Both their phones rang suddenly and they hurried to check on the incoming messages simultaneously.

"The lab," Sara was already on her feet, "all hands on deck."

"You stay." Greg gently pushed her back to sit down. "I'll come up with something to tell Catherine."

"No Greg." She stood back, "at times like this, I'd rather go to work than being alone in this house." Her eyes darted to the picture on the refrigerator again. Grissom had a wide smile on his face, and she wondered if his smile would stay on when she delivered the news.

She sighed and looked up. Her eyes met Greg's. "I can't tell you I'm 100% fine Greg. But work will make me feel better."

He didn't say a word, only stared at her with concern.

"Please. I need this."

"Okay." He sighed, "Just promise me you'll stay safe."

"Can't really promise that in our line of duty," Sara grimaced.

"Yeah. I know."

Sara offered Greg a faint smile of gratitude. "Thanks Greg. For this, all of this." She gestured to nothing in particular. "I'll just go freshen up a bit."

"I'll wait outside."

Sara followed her friend with her eyes while convincing herself that work was all she really needed right now.

_I'll tell Grissom. Only when I'm sure I can handle this._

X-.-/-/-.-X

Greg and Sara had barely arrived at the 14Th floor of their latest crime scene, a condominium complex, when Catherine greeted them with orders instead of a preamble. "Okay guys," she said. "Nick and Ray are already inside. You and me" Catherine gestured at Sara, "are taking the children's playroom. Greg, you take the perimeter. I've ask for Gerry from swing, and when he gets here you can go help Sara so I can help Nick and Ray."

"Whoa. It's that big a scene, is it?"

"Five bodies. Mom, dad, and housekeeper are back in the dining room, kids are in this room." She led them past two officers to a door.

"Kids," Sara mumbled dejectedly.

"Five and three." In one elegant whip of her hair, Catherine added, "Whoever did this has no heart at all."

"They never do." Greg supplied as the scene appeared in front of their eyes.

A tricycle and a push-along coupe were on a plush carpeted floor near a plastic pool filled with colorful balls. A swing, a slide, and a trampoline with bright red safety nets were also laid in the playroom. If wasn't for two obvious dead little bodies by the climber, the children play zone would look so lively.

Sara paled on seeing the bodies. Blood stained the younger kid's yellow overall and a green plastic baseball bat that was gripped by his little hand. The older kid's body was on a flowery blanket. If it weren't for Catherine's words Sara would have thought that the boy was sleeping.

"Ummm, Catherine." Greg's voice interjected Sara's effort to block the sudden wave of nausea. "Can I work the playroom with you?"

"Greg, this is hardly a good time to argue about who's senior and who's junior here." Catherine carried on in her stride, "Sara, you take the younger one."

"No. I meant," Greg continued, glancing at Sara. "I don't mind working the perimeter but…"

"Please Greg, don't give me a reason to write you up." There was no mistaken the annoyed tone in the nightshift supervisor's voice.

"Catherine," Sara could finally speak. "If you don't mind, I'd like to work the perimeter." She inhaled deeply, keeping the dead bodies outside her field of vision. "I'm not feeling all that well."

Catherine sighed and poised her hand on her hip. "Sara, if you are unwell you should stay outside the scene. We can't afford any contamination."

"I'll be fine. Just let me do the perimeter and then I'll come help you guys out." Sara could feel both of her friends' eyes on her. She straightened up, gripping her kit a little tighter as she retraced her steps toward the door, her eyes still on the boys' bodies.

Without another word Catherine grabbed her camera and started the initial walkthrough. Greg stopped Sara by the arm as she walked past. "Be safe," he told her softly before she walked away.

**To Be Continued…**


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER :** No copyright infringement intended. CSI and the characters within this fic belong to CBS and other entities. I made no profit but the fun of writing.

**A/N** : Some readers might expect fluff, some might expect angst, I'd rather call this piece as romance. Here's chapter 3, I'm sorry for the long delay enjoy ;)

**WATERMELON**

**- Part 3 -**

"Today's definitely not Catherine's happy day," Greg commented out of nowhere, dragging Sara out of her reverie. They were in a lift, making their way out of the crime scene after four hours of processing.

"Can't blame her," Sara murmured, stepping aside as a woman with shopping bags in one hand and the other clutching a watermelon to her chest entered the lift from the eleventh floor. "Everyone seems to be breathing down her neck."

Apparently the murdered family was one of Vegas socialite with close connections to the mayor of the city. The brutality of the murders itself had earned the case the public's highest attention. The connection with the mayor only added more pressure to the working CSIs and cops.

"Yeah," said Greg, "she asked after you though. I said you were coming down with the flu."

"Thanks," Sara replied in a murmur sliding closer to Greg as the shopping-bag woman dropped a few of her bags on the floor and leaned back against the wall.

"Still thinking about the case? Or about the… test maybe?"

Sara could only nod her reply. She was thinking about both the case and the test. The image of the bloodied body of three-year old Ben Durham lingered in her mind along with every detail of the case that they had uncovered as they processed.

"Only madness could end in a case like this. And madness is the last thing we want to bring home right?" Greg was clearly trying to cheer her up.

Sara loved Greg for his effort. Yet, the case was indeed playing on her mind.

They were half-way from wrapping up the case. Brass had arrested a prime suspect; Lydia Sears, the biological mother of little Ben. Lydia, who had showed signs of mental illness as the interrogation progressed, was suspected to have committed the butchery over her jealously that Mr. Durham had won custody of Ben. That Ben had a happy life with his new brother and his new mother.

All the evidence being processed at the lab pointed to one person, Lydia. Yet, as Catherine had gloomily pointed out, she would probably plead insanity and get off.

_Insanity. _The word was like poison to Sara's mind. The only thing Sara could mirror as she saw her reflection on the elevator wall was how sad she was as an eight year old accused of having a crazy mother.

_When thing__s__ go bad, will I go crazy too? Will I be like my mother? Like Lydia? Will I end up as nothing but __a__ nightmare for my child?_

The questions had lingered in her since day one, since she'd seen her father's bloodied body. Even in this compartment of an elevator, Sara could hear herself questioning her ability to mother a child.

Their only companion in the lift huffed out a heavy breath. Sara shook herself back to the present, noticing for the first time the sweat beading on the woman's forehead.

"You okay ma'am?" Greg beat Sara to the query.

"Uhh… I think… I'm… " The woman swayed unsteadily on her feet, the rest of her bags dropping to the ground. Her eyes drifted shut and she slid down the wall, releasing the tight hold she had over the watermelon. It smashed into pieces, splattering red pulp all over.

Sara immediately tried to break the fall, only to notice that the woman was far too heavy for her.

"Oh shit." Greg cursed and went wide eyed, freezing on the spot.

"Greg, help…" Sara glared at her friend before concentrating on the woman again.

"Oh. My. God. You. Are. Pregnant," Sara said pointedly. Her eyes fell to the growing puddle on the floor, widening with fear as she noticed a reddish hue to the liquid. "Greg! She's in labor! It's okay," Sara added addressing the woman. "It's going to be okay. We're CSI's; we're going to get you help."

Shit!" Greg muttered under his breath, coming to the rescue and kneeling on the other side of the woman. She was panting heavily. "Breathe easy ma'am, in, and out," he said in a surprisingly calm and soothing voice while using his foot to sweep the mess of watermelon aside.

"I'll call dispatch." Sara fished out her cellphone and dialed said number immediately. "Dispatch this is C-,"

The call ended abruptly as her phone slipped out of her hand when the elevator came to a sudden stop.

"What was that?"

"Oh no, this is so classic." Greg looked up at the elevator panel. They were on the seventh floor.

"Classic?" Sara was reaching across for her phone when the elevator shook and moved, only to judder to an abrupt stop again. The hard slam made the three of them hit the wall.

"You know," Greg stood up, rubbed his forehead and pressed the emergency button. "This is like a classic movie where people are stuck in an elevator and someone goes into labor."

Cringing Sara picked up the phone and wiped the watermelon pulp off on her pants leg. "Don't we have technology to prevent this friggin' stuff from happening?"

"Beat me," Greg kneeled back down beside the woman. "Umm…are you having contractions?" he asked the woman.

Eyes clenched tightly shut she nodded between heavy pants.

"How far apart are they?"

The woman took another huffing breath before raising her hand and showing him three fingers.

"I hope she means three hours," Sara said, staring at the woman with horror. She'd never seen a birth. To be honest, she'd rather process a body soup or doing a week of dumpster duty than being present at a birth. This was definitely an experience she'd rather miss out on.

"Minutes." The woman mumbled. "I've been feeling them… ungh…on and off all day… thought this one would be the same as my… last."

"Relax ma'am, we'll get some help ASAP," Greg said quietly.

Sara hastily resumed dialing dispatch, glad that the phone still worked. She gave the details of their latest stipulation, eyeing Greg and the woman in labor anxiously.

_._"Help is on its way," Greg said, "But should the baby decide to come before they make it we'll help you." Greg flashed the woman a calm, confident smile before refocusing on Sara.

Sara shook her head briskly. "I hope that by_ 'we'_ you mean '_you'_. Have you done this before?" she asked Greg. "You seem awfully calm in the circumstance."

"Nah. Never. But I've helped deliver puppies once. Can't be much different, can it?"

The woman threw Greg a dark, mean glare, and he shrugged helplessly. She reached for his hand and gripped it tight. Very tight. So tight that Greg thought he could feel the crushing of bones in his fingers.

"It's already bad," Greg sourly commented. "You can feel the head pushing, right?" he spoke to the woman. "The baby's coming?"

"God. Yes." The woman now trashed her head. "This is too fast. I was in labor for 36 hours with Dylan."

"Second babies come quicker," Sara remarked, causing Greg to lift a quizzical brow at her. She shrugged. "I think I read it somewhere."

The woman's grip was viselike on his hand and Greg tried to wriggle a little life into his fingers. "Okay Dylan's mom," he said, "you sound like you have experience in this field. Now, relax, and let me help you." Greg situated himself in front of the half sitting-half lying woman, touching her feet.

"No." The woman jerked her feet. "I want her." She nodded toward Sara.

"Me?" Sara spluttered.

"Ma'am, as you can see, I'm the more rational party in this rather helpless alliance," Greg reasoned.

Tears welled in the woman's eyes. "Please…, I've never had a man-, argh."

"Ma'am this is hardly the right time to-"

The woman crossed her feet in reply and Sara and Greg exchanged a look and a shrug.

"Sara." After a brief moment full of consideration, Greg stood up and gently situated a shocking Sara in front of the woman, "they have us prepared for this in the academy, remember. Emergency 101."

"That was what? When I was twenty five?" If Sara could, she would kill Greg with her glare right now.

"Come on, one of us need to help this woman." Gently, Greg sat behind the woman in pain, supporting her from behind.

In search of courage and in order to gather some nerve Sara looked up to Greg, somehow catching a glint of smirk in her friend's eyes. She rolled her sleeves then gently helped the woman into a lying position, pulled her legs up and her knees apart.

"Hi, I don't think we've been properly introduced," she said. "I'm Sara, and that smart-ass behind you is Greg."

"I'm Ungggh….Irene."

"Okay Irene," Sara sighed, "Let's gets this baby out. We can do this."

**To Be Continued…**

Thank you for taking time to read, and for your wonderful reviews, I'm beyond flattered:)**  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER : **CSI and the fictional main characters within this fic are belong to CBS. I simply borrowed them to have fun.

**A/N : **My respect and love go to every mother out there. Pregnancy and childbirth are not always easy and beautiful like they often write in fiction. I hope I can be a good mother for this one that I'm carrying and I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

**WATERMELON**

**-Part 4-**

All the theory Sara had memorized from the academy was nothing but cosmic dust compared with the live experience of delivering one's baby.

The strange thing was that Sara no longer felt her trembling hands or the gore of childbirth. She was just amazed at what was happening, her mind intent on remembering what to do and what not to do.

By the time it ended, by the time she held a bluish wailing little baby in her hands, she was just awestruck.

Then when Sara saw the way Irene held the baby lovingly, despite the previous near-death experience, she felt her heart melt. The way that little chest rose and fell, the way those little eyes rounded as his mother touched his little fingers for the first time, could only be described as pure bliss.

All of a sudden, Sara saw her own mother, gently combing her hair and singing her a song of stars and moon. She saw her father, twirling around in the living room as she giggled in his arms. She saw her old family of four, going down the beach hand in hand. She recalled the sweet memories she had as a child. Those were buried deep beneath the nightmare of one single bloody night.

There would always be enough love for children. All she needed was to make sure that she would never go out of control. That she would give nothing but love to her baby. Seeing Irene and her newborn made Sara sure that she was also capable of giving unbound love.

She held the baby one last time as Irene was loaded onto a gurney by paramedics who had arrived minutes after the birth. The elevator had been forced open and Greg was leaning against the wall, winking at her.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He waved his hand toward the messy elevator. "You did it like a real pro."

Sara gave a mocking glare over the little bundle in her arms as she gave the baby a soft kiss on the forehead, then on both cheeks. "I think I can do this," she whispered, more to herself than anybody else. _I can mother a child, I'll just love and love and love my baby and learn from my parents' mistakes. _

Greg stood up and came closer; tickling the little foot peeking from under his spare shirt that they had used as an emergency blanket. "Of course you can give birth in an elevator too, just don't ask me to lend a hand, or shoulder, or anything. Grissom can use his own… ahem… property."

Sara chuckled at the thought, giving another kiss to the now-sleeping baby.

"You'll be a great mother Sara. I'm now 110% sure of that." Greg wrapped an arm around Sara's shoulder.

Sara looked down at the miracle in her arms, suddenly feeling she could mother a thousand children. She didn't feel so worried anymore.

She'd tell Grissom, soon, now that she no longer felt anxious about his reaction. He might be glad. Oh how she hoped he would be happy to hear the news. But even if he was contemplative about it, even though he might be opposed to the idea, Sara didn't mind going down this road alone.

"Excuse me ma'am, I need to check the baby." A paramedic held out his hands toward Sara.

Reluctantly, yet lovingly, Sara handed the baby. Her eyes followed as the paramedic left.

"The lab and then straight to bed." His eyes also on the baby, Greg dangled his keys. "Our respective beds, of course. I'm too worn out for anything else." He winked suggestively at Sara.

"Yeah, right." She rolled her eyes. "Give me your phone though."

"Huh?"

"My phone's out. I need to book a flight to Paris. ASAP." Sara looked up at her friend, grinned. Her hand went to caress her stomach.

Greg grinned back, tossing his phone to her. "You go mommy. You go."

X-.-/-/-.-X

_Sara was in a garden of flowers. Hues of soft violet, red, white, and yellow were around as far as her eyes could see._

_A fountain, just at __arms reach__, was spilling water from its granite bowl to the small __pond__ below. She touched the falling water with her fingertips, smiling, __mesmerized__ at the freshness it brought to her skin._

_The bundle in her arms move__d__ and one little hand with chubby fingers peeked out. _

_She smiled down__, and gently brought the little hand to the water__. Gurgle__s__ of delight could be heard from the plump baby inside the bundle and that sweet sound brought out Sara's laugh. _

"_Feels good, doesn't it?" She whispered as her __lips met the r__osy round cheek in a soft kiss. The corner of her eyes caught the sight of Grissom, standing on the path of violets._

_His hair seemed curlier under the sun, his face glowed almost ethereally. _

_She smiled at him, instinctively __bringing__ her baby up a little higher for him to see. _

_He stared at her._

_He didn't smile back._

X-.-/-/-.-X

She had fallen asleep.

The arrangements at the lab, the lengthy wait for the flight, and the jet-lag itself had worn her out.

Yet she was happy.

Well, maybe not happy, relieved; relieved that she hadn't lost the courage to tell Grissom, not even three days after the elevator incident.

Now she was already in their small apartment, in Paris, lying in the bed she had missed so much, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

One glance at the clock and she knew that in another half an hour Grissom would be back from work.

She decided to take a bath. There was no advantage to delivering earth shattering news when you smelled like a 6000 miles flight.

Her phone flashed, signaling a new email and she checked to find one from Greg. A picture of baby Gregory Adams was in Greg's e-mail. It was Irene's baby, the one and probably the only baby that Sara would ever get the chance to help deliver.

Sara smiled. Greg's e-mail was filled with sparks of pride that the baby was named after him. He even teased that if it had been a girl Irene would have named the baby Gregoria instead of Sara.

Nah. She wouldn't advise anyone to name a baby after her. One Sara Sidle with her somber childhood was enough for this world.

She was replying to the e-mail, informing Greg that she had safely arrived in Paris and how she hoped that the baby wouldn't be too influenced by Greg's constant visits, when she heard the click of the key in the front door.

Grissom was already there, far too early for her liking.

Hank barked, and Sara only got the time to take one deep breath before the scrambling canine pawed her to the floor.

"Easy boy, easy." She chuckled, rubbing Hank's belly as she tried to get up.

"You're here?" That was more a question than a statement, coming from a clearly stunned Grissom who was standing in the middle of the living area.

"Yes. I'm here." Sara flashed him an uncomfortable smile but got nothing in return. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Recalling her dream she suddenly felt uneasy. "I…, Us-." Her sentence was thankfully cut short by a bounding Hank eagerly circling his mistress.

"You okay?" Overcoming his original shock at finding her in the apartment, Grissom came to her side in long strides, pulling at Hank's leash as he finally wrapped her in a big hug and kissed the top of her head.

The hug was as warm as before, and closing her eyes Sara exhaled in relief and let herself be held by his strong arms. "I'm okay. I just…there's something-"

"Good." He pulled back slightly and kissed her on the forehead. "I love surprises, but this one makes me worried." He smiled, "What's up? Missing us too much?"

Sara reached up to touch his face, and looked into his eyes. She smiled. "Something like that."

"Let me settle this boy so we can talk." He pulled back and gently led Hank to the kitchen area, pulled a bag of dog food from the cupboard under the sink and poured the treats into Hank's bowl while Sara stood watching from the doorway, a fond smile on her face.

How on earth would she deliver the news?

Once the dog was settled, Grissom came for his wife again, leading her back to the bedroom. "You okay?" he asked with concern. "What brought this visit on? What's happened?"

She exhaled, and then inhaled, preparing her well-practiced announcement.

His eyes filled with worry and he led her to sit on the bed. "Is everyone okay back in Vegas?"

There was no other way left, Sara looked up to his ever beautiful eyes and shook her head before blurting out in an almost inaudible whisper. "I'm pregnant."

Gone were her perfect sentences.

Grissom blinked, one, twice, three times.

"I'm having a baby. Our baby," she tried again, clearer and a little bit louder this time as she anxiously covered her still flat stomach with her hand.

Grissom gave himself a shake of the head. "You. Pregnant." Finally, words from him. He refocused baffled eyes on her. "But… how?"

Sara's only response was a tilt of the head and a rise of her brow.

"You know what I mean," he sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. He sat down next to her on the bed. "We use protection."

Sara sighed, staring at the man in shock before her. _Okay. No giddy, happy, text-book reaction then_. _No_ _jumping on the bed, no swirling me around in excitement. __I kind of expected that._

"Yes. But you know… there is no protection that's 100% effective." Despite her promise to stay positive, the words came out as sad as she felt right now.

"No. There isn't." He gulped. "So… you are really pregnant then."

Sara was torn between crying with disappointment and being angry at her husband. Yet, she understood him completely. The news was shocking, they didn't plan to have any children, and he was at the age where a man was supposed to have grandchildren, not an infant.

He had every right to be completely stunned.

The fact that she understood his reaction didn't make it any less hurting though.

"Yes, I am. _We_ are." She forced the words out of her mouth. "Listen Gil." Her hands went to cup his, and she brought it to her lips before giving it a gentle kiss. "You don't have to say anything right now. You don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Gil still stared at her blankly.

"I'm beat. I need a bath. I'm going to take a bath. We'll talk whenever you're ready." Without meeting his eye she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before hurrying to the bathroom and closing the door, trying her best to keep her emotion in check and not burst into tears in front of him.

**To Be Continued…**

So, Grissom's reaction, I hope you could see the realistic side of it. He's old enough to be a grandpa. Anyhow, tell me in a review;)**  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER : **Sara Sidle and Gilbert Grissom are two TV show characters that sadly belong to CBS and its associates. I merely adore the amazing characters by using them in my writing, no profit but fun attained, promise!

**A/N : **Part 5. This one is dedicated to Sylvie. For all I know she is an amazing mother herself, working and taking care of her family while maintaining time to write, read and help me correcting this fic. Thank you Sensei.

**WATERMELON**

**-Part 5-**

She took her time in the bath, way much longer than necessary, alternating between scrubbing, soaping, shampooing, and drowning herself in bitterness. The water got cold and she still stayed for a couple of minutes, coming out only when she was sure she would not cry in front of him.

_This was to be expected, Sara. Be strong, _she reprimanded herself. _He'll come round._

When, toweling her hair, she came out of the bathroom she found him sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard, fully engrossed in the bundle of papers in his hands.

_Great. Here comes the shut-out-the-world-with-work Gil Grissom._

"You took a long time in there," he said, looking up.

"Uh… I shampooed." She shrugged and tossed the towel on the bed before walking to the closet and putting on a pair of pajamas, slowly of course. She turned.

"Listen," they said in unison, both gazes meeting in a nervous glance.

"I'm…" she said.

"My…" he reciprocated.

They both fell silent, and Grissom pinched his lips nervously, his eyes flitting down to his reading.

"I'm tired…," she said quickly, yet again giving him a way out. "I just want to go to sleep."

"Are you okay?" His eyes showed concern, but he made no move except to tighten his hold on the papers in his hand.

She forced a small smile as she reached her side of the bed. "I'm good. Tired but good. Let's wait until tomorrow to talk about… this." Wasting no time she pulled the covers off and slipped in beside him, her face burrowing into the pillow as she closed her eyes to hide the tears that felt like needles pricking the back of her eyelids.

After a while, she could pretend no more and she rolled to her side, facing away from him. Her tears felt warm against her cold cheeks. Her hand went to her stomach, and she clenched her eyes tighter at the overwhelming surge of love for the life growing in her yet to be born. She sighed in sadness, hoping that her baby didn't feel her sorrow.

Succumbing to a mixture of jetlag and exhaustion, she finally drifted off to sleep, only to feel some time later Grissom's arm drape over her side and his hand move on top of hers. His warmth a blanket she could not resist, she relaxed and settled deeper into him, somehow managing to fall into a troubled sleep.

X – x –/ O /– x – X

Sara awoke to an empty bed. No companion in the room but Hank on the floor, snoring lightly.

She sat up, smiling and gently nudged the canine with her barefoot. The dog shifted, opening one eye to show his disagreement, only to fall asleep again.

The fun was over quickly as Sara recalled what happened the previous night. She tilted her head, trying to hear if Grissom was in the bathroom. But the room was quiet.

She glanced at the clock; it was almost three in the morning.

"Let's go have a talk with your daddy," she whispered as her hand went to caress her stomach.

He was of course to be found in the study; the corner near the kitchenette they had dedicated to a table and bookshelves. His eyes moved with intent as they read the papers, his glasses almost slid all the way down the bridge of his nose.

Her heart clenched at the sight, a wistful smile forming on her lips._Cute. I hope you're as cute as your daddy, _she thought as without thinking she rubbed her hand over her stomach._ Just less reading and more talking, huh, baby?_

"Hi," She nervously greeted the father of her baby.

He looked up with a start, removed his glasses and lowered the paper to his lap. "Come sit with me," he said after a moment, rising to his feet and flashing her an uncertain smile, the papers still clutched in his hand.

Sara nodded and let him guide her to the couch in front of the TV, in the process catching a good look at the article he had been reading.

_Otosclerosis. I should have known, _she thought with a sigh.

"Gil… I'm sorry," she blurted out quickly. It pained her to know what he was really worried about. She never even considered that Grissom's hereditary hearing problem could be a concern to him.

"Sara… honey...I'm sorry about earlier." He raised his shoulder. "I was… in shock."

She could only nod, inching closer to him on the couch.

"I'm new to this." He sighed, and reached for her hand. "And there is this issue." He held up the papers. "We have to prepare ourselves and our…child for this possibility."

"Isn't it too early to think about that?"

"Sara, there's a big chance that our baby might inherit _Otosclerosis_ from me. It's never too early too recognize any abnormality that can affect our baby's future." His look was so filled with anxiety it almost hurt Sara. "My mom lost her hearing ability Sara. I don't want our child to use sign language because she or he has to."

Even though Sara understood his fear, she could not formulate any reply to his words but a weak. "I'm sorry."

"No." He sighed, rubbing his temple. "It's nobody's fault. I just…," he stopped mid-sentence, looking down at her, and sighed.

She averted her gaze, another minute of looking into his eyes would tear down the wall that contained her tears.

"God. I'm sorry. It's happening again isn't it?" He wrapped her in an embrace, the warmest she ever felt in days. His hand went around her like a cocoon, like a safety net that kept her from disintegrating into sobs. "Me and my unreasonable fear of the future."

She would like to answer him with a thundering yes, saying that she also felt the fear, probably greater than he did. She wanted to slap him, tell him that _this_ was happening, that it would be happening whether he was ready or not, that she was already pregnant. That there was no way to undo it.

But she knew that Gil Grissom was a man who often lived in his very own safe shelter. And she had learned that it took extra patience and time to lure him out into the sun.

"Gil, whatever happens in the future we can deal with as a family."

His brow furrowed and he thought about her words for a moment before finally giving her a small accepting nod of the head.

"There are a lot of possibilities out there," she continued quietly. She cupped his chin and made him look straight at her. "But I got you and you got me." She took the papers from his hand and set the offending item on the table. "We'll research the topic properly, we'll meet with doctors and experts, and we'll make sure that everything ends well. We'll do it together, but we'll do it later. First we need to accept this whole situation, right?"

As easy it was to say it now, Sara couldn't help but recalling her own panic at finding out she was pregnant only a couple days previously. "I know you are afraid. I am too. But I truly believe we can do this. One step at a time, but we'll do it. What choice do we have?"

"You're afraid?" he asked with disbelief.

"Of course I am." She let out a disbelieving giggle. "I am petrified, Gil." He pulled her to him and she rested her head against his shoulder as he sank deeper into the cushions. "I know nothing about motherhood," she said. "I was kind of hoping that you, -it-all, would be the one who will be all smart-ass and calm about this."

"I'm as clueless as a first-grader here." He smiled down at her. "I went online and downloaded pregnancy info last night, ordered books too. There are so many things to cover. I have a lot of catching up to do."

"We **both** have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yeah." His embrace loosened as he gave her temple a kiss. "Are you okay? Have you got yourself checked out? We should make an appointment. An ob-gyn, here? Or Vegas?" He continued animatedly.

"Gil… are you really okay with this?" She finally found the courage to ask. "Are you happy?"

He gave her another sweet kiss before hugging her tighter. "To be honest, I don't know."

"Are you mad?"

"No. Of course not." He quickly leveled their gaze. "I'm just…"

"Being you_._"She continued his sentence, with much less bitterness this time.

He nodded. "Listen. I might not look like an elated father-to-be, but I love you. I love our life together. Therefore I love this child."

The sincerity in his eyes convinced her like it always did, she felt relieved and oh so in love again. The way he put his hand gently against her abdomen erased most of her fears. "But you and our little one might have to be patient with this rather incompatible Dad."

"Our baby is the one who will have to be patient with us, his or her unconventional mom and dad. I'm as little prepared for this as you are."

"Yeah." He grinned down at her. "We need to sleep on this for a few days, you know? Talk further when we're up to it. You need some rest and I think I might have worked up my BP a few notches too high."

"Yeah."

Together they sunk into the cushions, both letting out a deep breaths, only to have Grissom shoot up straight again. "You've been on a long flight."

"Huh?"

"Pregnant women need to be hydrated. Do you want water, fruit? I have some watermelon."

The image of a watermelon slamming onto the floor and breaking into juicy pieces came into Sara's mind. "Let's just sleep," she said chuckling to herself softly. She brought her husband down by the hand, cuddling up to the father of her child, the man she was sure she could always count on. "I don't think our baby and I should come close to watermelon for a while."

**EnD**

I appreciative every review you send my way, thank you for reading this fic. I hope we can still see each other in the next story :)


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